


National Anthem

by paranomasia



Series: "You can be the boss" series [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Commissioned Work, I am maturing, I have officially reached the point where I stop giggling at the word cock, M/M, Mention of spanking, Stiles Stilinski is Seventeen, mention of Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, slight consent issues as always with Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranomasia/pseuds/paranomasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of sequel to "You taste like the Fourth of July".<br/>Apparently this this time, Stiles had crossed a line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	National Anthem

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by [So](http://solusn.tumblr.com/) who wanted something in the mood of the Fourth of July. So I took the chance to write this sequel which had been brimming on my fingertips ever since I finished the first part. Thank you, So!
> 
> Title from the [Lana del Rey song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxDdEPED0h8).
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr!](http://www.pocketstilinski.tumblr.com)

The door swung open before Stiles had even lifted a hand to knock. Peter positively glared at him, eyes flashing and his breathing deep and laboured. A year ago, this would have terrified Stiles. Now he merely rolled his eyes and ducked under Peter’s arm. He scrunched up his nose at the sight of a fist shaped hole in the wall.“So do you want to do the yelling first or can it wait until I’m in the shower?”

“His scent is all over you.” Peter said, voice soft and menacing as he circled Stiles while stay at a meter’s distance. “You reek of _Argent_ , Stiles.” 

“Alright, shower it is.” Stiles replied, cheerfully, and pulled his shirt and hoodie over his head in one smooth motion, revealing his back to Peter, who let out a strangled sort of sound between a whine and a growl. Stiles sighed. “Come on, Peter, we’ve had this conversation before.”

He fluttered his eyelashes at the man, and threw his shirt in his direction. Peter flinched and jumped away from them, as if they themselves were laced with wolfsbane. Stiles let out a snort. “I’ll have you know that it was totally worth it. The things that man can do with his mouth, Peter.”

He started towards the bathroom, while making a show of stretching his arms over his head and tighten his muscles. He let out a small wince when that triggered a particularly sore reaction in his side. That would probably be days before that was healed. And then it’d be a week or two until he would stop feeling Chris’ hands on his skin, the feel of the leather on his thighs. He shivered lightly, and turned on the light in the small bathroom. There already was a clean towel hanging over the bar on the wall, and he noticed not without a spark of delight that Peter had provided him with his favourite shampoo - the man did really care, didn’t he?

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

And that was the end of his sympathy for Peter. This time it almost lasted an entire minute, what a shame. “It’s not like I’m going to marry him, Peter. It was sex. Awesome, memorable and downright filthy sex, but just sex.” He shrugged, and unbuttoned his pants before pulling them down and kicking them away from him. When he straightened, he could see Peter’s eyes track over his body, his expression somewhere between anger and concern. He stuck out his hip and struck a pose, adding some pursed lips for good measure. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly.” Peter replied between gritted teeth, tearing his eyes away from a particularly nasty bruise on Stiles’ hip. He took a step forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around so harshly Stiles almost lost his balance.

“Geez, easy on the goods, Peter.”

The answer came in a harse slap on his arse, which made Stiles gasp out a yelp of pain. Sitting on the soft seats of Chris’ car had numbed down the soreness, but it apparently only took a single whack to bring him back to full awareness. He tried to turn around, but Peter had a firm grip on his shoulder, so it was more like trying to push against the wall than another human being.

Another slap, on the other cheek this time, and Stiles whined. “That’s not fair, ow.”

Peter let go of him then, and took a step back, clasping his hands together as if to contain himself from repeating his earlier actions. Stiles took the chance to rub his hands over his renewed sore behind. “So much for the entire ‘oh I can’t help you Stiles, I wouldn’t want to hurt you’-bullshit you’ve been trying at me.” He said, in an awful interpretation of Peter’s voice.

“Get in the shower.” Peter grunted out, and Stiles laughed.

“Really, though, if you wanted to try it for yourself, you could just have asked. Would’ve saved me the effort of going out to those shady bars.”

“Shower.”

Stiles, however, was enjoying the way Peter’s eye was twitching, the corner of his lip pulled up in a half-snarl that was doing things to Stiles. Or more specifically, a part of him. Really, being naked in advance was very convenient. He could perfectly go at it once more before showering. Peter might get rough and territorial with him. He shivered in anticipation.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know.” He walked closer to Peter, a mask of pure innocence put on - he knew better than anyone how to look like a distressed Bambi - and reached out to Peter’s face. Stiles cupped his cheek, pressed his entire body against the man so he couldn’t miss the hardness that was growing between his legs. “I could help you take care of those feelings.”

Peter looked at him, eyes no longer flashing but instead burning with an intensity that was familiar to Stiles. So it was the innocent card that would persuade Peter - Stiles should have guessed, really, the man was a predator through and through. Stiles bit his lip, looked up from underneath his lashes and leaned in. “I could be so good for you.” He whispered, letting his eyes slip closed as he breached the distance and pressed their lips together. Peter’s mouth was softer than he’d expected, the taste of some pretentious tea on his lips, and Stiles let out a surprised gasp, using his free hand to work on Peter’s belt. Before he could get his hand inside the man’s pants, however, Peter pulled back.

They looked at each other for a moment, Peter’s face blank, and Stiles felt annoyance slip through his perfectly created expression. “What?”

Peter didn’t immediately answer, raised his fingers to his lips and touched them softly, as if he couldn’t believe what they had just experienced. Stiles crossed his arms, dropping the façade completely. “Why can’t you just admit you want to fuck me senseless.” 

To his surprise, Peter chuckled. “Oh, Stiles.”

“What?”

Peter simply shook his head in amusement, which was incredibly infuriating. When he met Stiles’ eyes, there was a smirk on his lips. “You try so hard to be in control, don’t you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Uhm, no. That’s the entire point. The not-being in control.”

“No, it’s not.” Peter interrupted him, and there was something in his voice that made Stiles snap his mouth shut. “It’s what you want the other person to think. You want them to think they’ve got you all wrapped up, while it’s actually you who’s leading the scene.” He chuckled again, and Stiles pushed down the pang of annoyance.

He simply rolled his eyes before he turned on his heel, slightly disappointed in the lack of orgasms before shower-time, but Peter was in front of him in less than a second. Stiles took a step to the side to get around him, but Peter mirrored it.

“I bet it was like that with _him_ too, wasn’t it?” Peter asked, lip quirking up in amusement. His voice took on a higher pitch, obviously meant to mock Stiles’. “Oh Chris, please fuck me, Chris. Yeah, do it, hit me.”

“Shut up.” Stiles snapped, and slapped at Peter’s chest. He had neither time nor patience for this. “I’m going to…” Before he was well aware of what was happening, his back was pressed against the cool tile of the bathroom, Peter’s fingers around his neck, not tight enough to choke him, but enough that Stiles could feel the strength behind the grip when he swallowed. 

“That’s not how I play.” Peter said, and it was probably a bad sign that this still wasn’t turning Stiles off the least bit, even though his stomach was churning nervously. “If you want to play with a wolf, puppy, you better get ready for their bite.” His grip tightened and he lifted his arm a tad higher so that Stiles had to get on the tips of his toes to keep breathing. He grabbed at Peter’s wrist, but his hands were sweaty, and he couldn’t get a grip no matter how he tried.

“Ta.” Peter said, and Stiles was pretty sure he preferred the anger to the amusement that was currently in Peter’s voice. “I’ve let you off many times with that disrespectful tongue of yours, but when you start playing around with the wrong people it gets a bit… How shall I put it?” The hand that wasn’t pinning Stiles to the wall was tickling its way down Stiles’ side, and it was all Stiles could do to not let out a moan. “Oh right.” His hand closed around Stiles’ cock, squeezing. “Personal.”

“Fuck.” Stiles croaked out, legs trembling as his body tried to stay on top of the situation. He made a half-hearted attempt to slap Peter’s hand away, but he couldn’t move enough, couldn’t do more than just hang on for the ride. Peter laughed, and twisted his wrist, his thumb teasing the tip of Stiles’ cock.

“You like it better like this, don’t you?” Peter asked, as he settled for moving his hand in a lazy, languid rhythm that had Stiles trembling on his toes. “Answer me.”

“N-no.” Stiles tried, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Peter’s smug expression.

“Don’t lie, puppy. It’s not becoming.”

“I’m not..” Stiles swallowed, another moan being pulled from his lips as Peter’s fingers dug into his neck. “Not a puppy.”

“But you are.” Peter drawled, his hand letting go of Stiles’ cock so he could cup his balls instead. “So soft and pliant, so eager to try and be in charge, while all you actually want is someone to keep you in line.”

“I fuck-ing hate you.” Stiles said, teeth clenched, but his dick decided to betray him by twitching nervously against Peter’s wrist.

“You can tell me the truth, you know.” Peter raised an eyebrow at him. “I won’t laugh at you.” He emphasised his words by rolling Stiles’ balls in his hand, and Stiles really had enough.

“F-fine. Yes.” He stuttered, a sob in his voice as Peter finally wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ cock again. “I.. You.”

“Want me to take care of you?”

“Yes.” Stiles groaned, tried to buck his hips into Peter’s hand. “Do it.”

Peter only hummed. “What?”

“ _Please_.” Stiles added, and it really wasn’t fair how his mind was so clouded he could barely form sentences. “Please, Peter.”

Instead of the expected relief, Stiles felt Peter let go of him, and he almost slumped down to the floor. He managed to stay on his feet, though he had to hold himself on the wall. He stared at Peter in confusion. “W-what?”

Peter wiped his hand on his jeans, and gave Stiles a terrible, horrible, awful, no-good smile. “You have to shower.”

“But.. You said..” Stiles tried to get his head around the situation, but his dick was throbbing and his entire body was just screaming for release.

Peter raised an eyebrow as Stiles tried to find his words. “You wanted to play with my rules. Consider this my bite.”

“You’re a bad person.” Stiles finally mumbled, voice trembling in something he didn’t want to put a name to.

“So I’ve been told.” Peter was making his way outside the bathroom, but he paused in the doorway and glanced at Stiles once more. “I’ll have tea by the time you finished.” Then he was gone, the throbbing presence between Stiles’ legs the only indicator that anything out of the ordinary had happened. He took a moment to steady himself, before turning on the tap of the shower and hopping in. He felt more shaken than he had when he’d arrived, but there was a strange lightness in his chest he couldn’t remember having had in a long time. He gently tapped his fingers against the marks on his neck, and leant back against the tile as he let his fingers slowly wander down, pretending it was Peter’s hand on him instead.

 


End file.
